Eye to Eye
by commander-shakarian
Summary: Oran Trevelyan seeks romantic advice from his friend, First Enchanter Vivienne. (written as part of an art for fic trade)


"You look absolutely dreadful, darling." Vivienne glanced over at the Inquisitor with worried eyes. Her face didn't betray any emotion, but Oran knew how to read her gaze. "Are you resting well?"

With a sigh, Oran Trevelyan collapsed onto the Orlesian silk covered settee, feeling more at home in the small den-like area than his own quarters. He spent most of his free time between there and the armory where Cassandra liked to haunt, for completely different reasons however. "No. How can you tell?"

Vivienne walked to a cabinet and, opening the doors, gazed in upon the multitude of shining liquor bottles within. "My dear, you are always up and about at all times of the night. Don't think I haven't noticed." Retrieving a bottle of Oran's favorite Antivan brandy, the former First Enchanter poured the liquid into crystal glasses before handing one to the Inquisitor. "I'm no fool. What is bothering you?"

Running a hand through his brunette hair, he tried to find the words. "It's… well, it's about Cassandra."

"_Naturally_." Vivienne said, her lip curling at the mention of the Seeker. She had never liked Oran's infatuation with the woman, but she understood it. Cassandra was a proud warrior, a devout Andrastian, and strong willed. Vivienne agreed that those were admirable traits, but Cassandra was royalty. She should act more like it. "Tell me, darling. What happened?"

Oran's hand came to his chin, rubbing the stubble that had grown in. "I'm usually a confident person. I have no qualms about talking to nobility, to members of the Chantry, _by Andraste_, even Kings. But with Cassandra, I can barely get an intelligent word out of my mouth."

Vivienne settled into a chair across from her friend, her lip twitching with a smile that she refused to let the man be a witness to, swirling the glass of brandy in her hand. "Oran, you are charming, handsome, and even though sometimes too sarcastic for your own good, a decent man. Cassandra would be lucky to have your affections."

Oran shook his head before standing and walking towards the double glass doors that exited onto a balcony. "It's _I_ who would be lucky to have Cassandra's affections." Putting a finger to his whiskered chin, the Inquisitor pondered his thoughts aloud. "What can I do to prove to Cassandra that I'm serious about us? That I would _never_ consider her a conquest?"

"Is that what she believes?" Vivienne asked, taking a sip of her brandy before speaking again. "If so, then she really is as thick headed as I thought."

"Cassandra has only been in the company of warriors and nobles, most of which would use her and move on." Oran closed his eyes, trying to picture the beauty of his Cassandra: her russet eyes, her short ebony hair with its single braid, her sun-kissed skin and its peppering of white scars. He adored the way her nose crinkled when annoyed, the disgusted noise she made when she was distressed, and the sweat that glistened on her skin after a particularly difficult battle. The Maker had created a goddess, Oran was certain of that. "How could she possibly believe that I'm not the same? That I truly care for her?"

Vivienne leaned forward and placed her glass on the table at her feet. She smoothed her posh robes before joining Oran on the balcony. She didn't speak, only allowing the cool mountain air to caress her skin. Oran needed her presence, but perhaps not her words.

A few minutes of silence was enough to give Oran a small amount of peace. "How do you do it, Lady Vivienne?"

"Do what, my dear?"

"How did you find someone to love, who could love you back, in the midst of all of the politics? The Duke seemed to care for you very much. I-" Oran's voice broke, his emotions getting the better of him. "I want someone to care for _me_ like that."

Vivienne, for the first time in a long time, felt sympathy. As a mage in the Orlesian court, she had learned to keep any feelings she might have had to herself. But standing there with the Inquisitor, a man whom she had formed a tight bond with over the few months she'd been with his Inquisition, she knew that she was fond of him and wanted to see him happy.

"Duke Bastien was special." She replied, her voice quiet, thoughtful. "It wasn't easy, our romance. Love never is, especially when it involves a mage, but Bastien was attentive, gentle, kind: everything a man should be to the woman he loves." Vivienne smiled, the first smile she'd displayed since losing Bastien. "I miss him."

Oran instinctively reached over and grasped Vivienne's hand in his. It was a shock to her, but not an unwelcome one. Oran was one of her closest friends. He was in need of comfort. She would allow it.

"I've heard rumors that Cassandra likes poetry." Vivienne continued, her concern for Oran's well being overshadowing her dislike of Cassandra. "Perhaps you could start there, darling."

Oran turned to Vivienne, his eyes widening at the suggestion. "Do you think she'd like that?"

Vivienne patted his shoulder kindly. "It's a start, my dear. It will at least gain her attention."

A wide smile spread across his face. Without hesitation or a thought about how Vivienne would react, Oran pulled the elegant woman into a hug, happy that he had a direction with which to approach Cassandra. "Thank the Maker you're here, Vivienne. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Before she could respond, Oran had released his hold on her and exited her loft, on his way to no doubt seek out the warrior woman. Oran's words echoed in her head as she watched the Inquisitor disappear through the door to the library. So much had changed in the world since the Inquisition had formed. Vivienne hadn't realized that she had changed as well.


End file.
